


The Bard as the Bandit

by SunflowerSupreme



Series: Witcher (Show) [3]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:28:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22022572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunflowerSupreme/pseuds/SunflowerSupreme
Summary: Geralt’s latest contract is to scare off a group of bandits from a small village. Unfortunately, he finds someone who once claimed to be his friend living with the bandits.
Series: Witcher (Show) [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1624300
Comments: 28
Kudos: 295





	1. Chapter 1

He’d given the bard the slip after the incident with the elves.

He felt a bit bad about it, but then again, he’d left him in a town, so he wasn’t completely helpless or alone. Not to mention he had the tale to turn into a ballad, _The Witcher at the End of the World_ , or whatever he intended to call it.

Since then, he’d been alone, struggling by on the few contracts he could find. Finally, it had been long enough without pay that he was getting hungry enough to find different work.

“I won’t kill them,” he told the Ealdorman, folding his arms over his chest.

“You don’t need to kill them,” he promised. “Just scare them off a bit.”

Geralt folded his arms and thought. It was work well below a Witcher, of course, but if the Ealdorman was to be trusted, the town was getting desperate. The bandits had been plaguing them for months, stealing food and supplies. They’d even drug off two village girls, keeping them for days before returning them. One was now with child.

“One hundred crowns,” Geralt said. “And a promise that the pregnant girl won’t be abandoned.”

“Her father threw her out,” said the Ealdorman. “She’s staying with me.”

Geralt nodded. “What can you tell me about the bandits?”

“They’re strong and well-armed. Not afraid of getting hurt.”

“Has anyone seen them recently?”

The Ealdorman shook his head. “Nay, but the livestock’s still disappearing at the same rate.”

“Anyone else gone looking for them?”

“Well,” the man said. “There was a man who was asking about them a few days back. I think he wanted the reward.”

“He still alive?” Geralt asked.

“We haven’t heard from him.”

“Hmm.” The witcher nodded thoughtfully. “If he’s lucky, they just scared him off.” He gave the Ealdorman a nod. “I’ll be back soon for the reward,” he promised.

He took Roach and headed out of town, in the direction that the villagers said the bandits came from. It didn’t take long to find their trail, a mixture of footprints, broken branches, and debris littered the path.

Once he got closer he dismounted, leaving Roach a safe distance from the camp with a soft promise of more oats once he was paid. Then Geralt crept closer to the bandit camp.

They were gathered around a fire, laughing and shouting, passing food and wine around the fire. His eyes narrowed.

There, at the center of the circle, sat a familiar figure.

Jaskier was strumming his lute and singing softly, his voice not even loud enough to echo above the sounds of the camp. His shirt was unbuttoned, his jacket tossed on the ground beside him as though he had made himself comfortable.

Geralt scowled. He’d been made a fool of. Jaskier wasn’t a silly, simpering bard. He was a bandit.

The Witcher clenched his fists and backed away, preparing to put his plan into motion.

Once night fell, he’d fool the bandits into thinking they were under attack from necrophages. Then, he’d nab the bard and drag him back to the Ealdorman to give his promises that the Bandits wouldn’t return.

Of course, that would be after he got his own explanations.

* * *

Jaskier shifted slightly, his back throbbing.

He tried to remain focused on his lute, on the songs that the bandit leader seemed to like, but it was difficult to focus when they kept carrying plates of food by him, holding it just close enough for him to smell it before pulling it away.

“Hungry, bard?” Growled the leader, leaning closer.

“Well, I’ve never said no to such a delicious sounding meal-”

“Yes or no?”

“Y-yes.”

The leader sat back, a devilish grin on his face. “Bring the bard his supper!”

“Ah! Thank you!” Jaskier said brightly, sitting up and straightening his back. But when the plate was brought forward, his smile faded. Instead of a helping of the stolen meat the rest of the men were enjoying, there was only a pile of worms, no doubt fishing bait they’d nabbed in the village.

“Ah- I-”

“Don’t like it?” the leader asked.

Jaskier’s stomach twisted. “I-”

“Timit!” the leader shouted, motioning the silent brute forward.

Jaskier swallowed and looked up at him nervously. As much as he’d grown to hate the leader, Timit was the one he feared most of all. “I- Well, I mean I-”

“Timit, why don’t you help the bard eat?”

Jaskier yelped and scrambled back. “No!” he cried out. “That won’t be necessary! I can eat!”

Timit grabbed his ankle and drug him back, throwing him into the dirt by the fire. Then the brute grabbed him again, gripping his jaw and forcing his mouth open, holding him out to the leader.

The leader leaned forward until his face was only inches from Jaskier. “Here’s the deal, bard,” he said. “You’re gonna eat that whole plate, or Timit here’s gonna teach you to sing again.”

Jaskier nodded, a difficult task when clutched in the brute’s arms. As soon as he was released, he reached for the plate, pulling it into his lap.

The bandits gathered around, laughing and jeering as he looked down at the plate. He picked up a worm, holding it delicately between two fingers, and examined it.

“Timit,” the leader said again. “Time for a lesson-”

Jaskier stuffed the worm in his mouth, swallowing it down. Then he scooped up a handful, shoving them all into his mouth and gulping them. He swore he could feel them wriggling down his throat into his stomach. His stomach rolled, threatening to rebel.

“D-delicious,” he lied.

He ate them all, one handful at a time, trying not to give in to his body’s desire to vomit.

The bandits laughed, jeering and throwing sticks and stones at him. “Thank you,” he stuttered.

The leader leaned back. “Well bard, it looks like you won’t be getting another lesson tonight. Maybe tomorrow.”

“Maybe,” Jaskier whispered.

Timit grabbed him and drug him to a post, tying his wrists behind his back and hobbling his legs. He laid on his side as the camp settled down, squeezing his eyes shut and trying not to think too hard on where he was or to imagine more wriggling in his belly.

Ever since Geralt had left him, he had been desperate for more adventure to turn into songs. So when he’d heard about the bandits, he’d wanted to get a look at them, just from a distance.

Unfortunately, he’d been captured.

They’d been planning on simply robbing him and leaving him in the woods until they’d found his lute. Then, they’d demanded he sing for them. He’d refused at first.

Then Timit had given him his first ‘lesson.’

They’d tied him to a post and whipped him until he screamed and agreed to sing for them. Then they’d whipped him more, just for good measure. 

Noises echoed through the woods. Grunts and snarls, the snapping of branches and the shuffle of feet.

His self-pity forgotten, Jaskier sat up sharply. “Monsters!” he shouted. “Monsters!”

The bandits sprung into action, shouting and waking up, grabbing their weapons and making to flee.

“Wait!” Jaskier shouted. “Don’t leave me!”

The leader paused, glancing back at Jaskier. “Leave ‘im,” he told his men. “Hopefully the creatures smell the blood on him.”

“No!” Jaskier shouted, struggling against the ropes on his wrist. But the bandits were long gone, leaving him thrashing in the dirt, with only the approaching grunts and growls of the necrophages to keep him company.

Then something gleamed.

A knife lay on the ground in front of him, where someone must have dropped it. He stretched out his foot, managing to drag it close enough to grab. He cut himself in the process of sawing through the ropes on his wrist, but there was no time to bandage the wounds, grabbing his lute and making a break for the forest.


	2. Chapter 2

Mimicking the sound of monsters was one of the first things Vesemir had taught him. After that, it wasn’t difficult to bounce the noises off the trees, making it sound as though there was a great deal more of them.

It wasn’t hard to cut Jaskier off from the group since the bard was the last to struggle out of the camp. He’d laid a trap while he’d been setting up his preparations, and herded him toward it. As he’d planned, the bard tried to squeeze between two trees, only to find himself suddenly hanging upside down from a rope.

His lute and a knife fell from his hands, landing on the leaves beneath him.

The trap had gotten both of his ankles, pinning his legs together as he swung, screaming for help. “If I were a monster,” Geralt growled, stepping out of the woods. “Screaming would get you killed faster.”

Jaskier froze, his eyes widening. “Geralt? Geralt! Oh, praise the gods! I’m saved!”

Geralt folded his arms over his chest, standing in front of the bard. “So when were you gonna tell me?” he asked.

“Tell you?” Jaskier asked. “Tell you what? Shouldn’t you be worried about the monsters-”

“About your friends,” he growled, grabbing Jaskier’s shirt and swinging him closer. “And there aren’t any monsters.”

The bard moaned. “Oh, my stomach does not like that.”

“You lied to me, said you were just a bard-”

“Alright, so my father is a lord, but I’m the youngest son-”

The Witcher let go of him and he swung away again, yelping and grabbing his stomach. “Geralt!”

“How long have you been a bandit?”

“A ba- Are you daft?! I’m not a bandit! ”

“Really?” Geralt folded his arms over his chest. “Just roommates then? Or did you come for the pretty virgins?”

“What? No! Geralt you have the wrong idea entirely- please let me down, my stomach is-”

He stabbed his sword through the end of the rope and Jaskier fell to the ground with a cry. The Bard pushed himself up onto his elbows, then his body spasmed.

Geralt stepped back instinctively.

Jaskier moaned and opened his mouth, coughing up a mess onto the forest floor. Geralt raised an eyebrow, glancing at the bile. Then he frowned. “The fuck have you been eating?”

“Worms,” replied the bard, still looking rather green.

“I can see that.” He could smell it too.

“Do you have any water?”

Geralt fumbled for the flask at his hip, crouching down and holding it out to Jaskier. He rinsed out his mouth, then spat it out, pushing himself up weakly. In spite of himself, Geralt gave him a hand, jerking him to his feet by the back of his shirt.

“Why were you here?” he asked.

“I’m not one of them-”

“You were singing for them!”

“They beat me!” Jaskier shoved away, pulling off his shirt and turning his back to Geralt. “They tortured me to make me sing, damn you!”

He winced at the sight of Jaskier’s back. “I-”

Jaskier turned back around, staring at Geralt with sad eyes. “They tortured me, starved me, and then made me eat worms, Geralt! Worms!” 

“Sounds bad,” Geralt said. An uncomfortable feeling prickled in his chest. It felt a bit like guilt, although he tried to tell himself that he was wasting his feelings.

“It was awful!” supplied the bard. “Simply awful! If you hadn’t come along when you did-”

“Worms aren’t nutritious. You’d have starved before long.”

Jaskier paled. “And it would have been your fault! You abandoned me-”

“It’s hardly my fault you lost track of me,” he snapped, shoving past Jaskier and heading back to where he’d left Roach.

“Don’t leave me again!” the bard cried, hurrying after Geralt, stumbling to gather his things from the forest floor. “Geralt!”

“Keep up.”

“Geralt come back here!”

He turned in time to see Jaskier trip over a tree root, landing on the ground with a grunt. The witcher sighed and returned to help him, pulling him to his feet again. “Are you hurt?” he asked gruffly.

“Besides the obvious? My back is throbbing and-”

“Good.”

“Good? Good! It’s not good-”

“It’s good that you’re still in one piece.”

Jaskier was limping by the time they reached Roach, the mare looking up with a disinterested expression, flicking her tail. “You know, I wouldn’t ask this, except, since we are friends-”

“We aren’t-”

“Could I please ride? My ankles didn’t appreciate that trap of yours-”

Geralt grabbed him and heaved him into the saddle before he could say another word. Jaskier scrambled to grab handfuls of Roach’s mane to keep himself balanced.

He took ahold of her reins and led her forward, back to the trail. “How’d the bandits get you?”

Jaskier seemed to flush. “Heh. Funny you should ask, you see-”

“Jaskier.”

“I was looking for a good story for a song.”

Geralt stopped and turned, giving him a firm glance over his shoulder. “Jaskier-”

“I was hungry! I need to eat! And not just worms!”

“You said your father was a lord-”

“You remembered that?” Jaskier picked at Roach’s mane for a moment, then sighed. “He’s practically disowned me- calls me a leecher, which is funny, since-” Jaskier sighed, looking down at his hands. “I’m not the youngest,” he said finally.

Geralt raised an eyebrow, failing to see the connection.

“My father is the mighty Lord Pankratz! And I, his eldest son, was born to a chambermaid.”

“Ouch,” said Geralt, pulling Roach along once more.

“I tell people I’m the youngest and that’s why he won’t support me.”

“He paid for your education,” Geralt reminded him. “You don’t learn to read and write from a chambermaid.”

“I suppose that was decent of him,” Jaskier said finally.

“How many bastards do you have?”

“Geralt!”

* * *

The Ealdorman was happy to hear that he’d frightened off the bandit, and offered Geralt his reward on the condition that the Witcher would return if the bandits weren’t really frightened away. He promised he was going to be in town for a few days before slipping out of the Ealdorman’s hut and returning to Jaskier, standing beside Roach and stroking the mare.

Geralt pocketed the coins, then thought better of it. He pulled the bag out, split the coins in half, and gave them to Jaskier. “Don’t get used to it,” he growled.

Jaskier stumbled after him, clutching the coins in alarm. “Are you leaving again?”

“Yes.” In a few days, at least. He certainly didn't plan to hang around the town longer than he had to, even if they were grateful to him for removing the bandits. 

“Without me?”

Geralt stopped, giving Jaskier a frustrated look. “Does it look as though I’m leaving you?”

“Why are you giving me coins?”

“To buy something to eat other than worms,” Geralt replied. “The inn’s this way, and I’d like a bath. They'll have something for supper.”

Jaskier hurried after him. “How do I know you won’t leave me again?”

Geralt stopped short, turning around and grabbing Jaskier’s collar, nearly lifting him off the ground. “Because I fucked up,” he growled. “There, I said it. I fucked up and it almost got you killed. Since you’re too helpless to leave on your own, I’ll have to take you with me.”

Jaskier opened his mouth, then slowly closed it, a slight grin on his face. “I- Of course. I’m completely helpless on my own. I’d probably wander into a pack of wild dogs or-”

Geralt released him and he winced. “And my back still hurts, have I mentioned that?”

“There ought to be an herbalist here. The innkeeper should know.”

“Oh good!”

“Buy some contraceptives while you’re there.”

“Geralt!”

The witcher grinned, ignoring the way Jaskier seemed to puff up, trying to spit out a witty reply. “Come on,” he said. “Roach deserves some quality oats.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t know anything about Jaskier’s family except what google told me, so I made up the bit about him being a bastard. As far as I know, we don’t know anything about them except the name.


End file.
